The Long and Short of It
by Sakura123
Summary: A collection of short stories and one shots written in 2010 for the livejournal challenge community, "themiddleearth". Fairly centered on Borormir, Finduilas and Faramir.
1. The Reaper

_**The Long and Short of it**_

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**Author:** Sakura123 (weber_dubois22)

**Category:** Lord of the Rings

**Genre:** General/Drama

**Rating: K+**

**Summary:** A collection of short stories written for the LiveJournal community "themiddlearth" back in 2010.

**Characters:** Various

**Written: 5/3/2010**

**Disclaimer:** Lord of the Rings and all things related are property of the J.R.R. Tolkien, Tolkien Enterprises, Peter Jackson and New Line Cinema. I own nothing except the ideas written and original characters.

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**One: The Reaper**

**Title:** "The Reaper"

**Author:** Sakura123 (weber_dubois22)

**Prompt:** #W: Balrog (Challenge #9 "Middle-Earth ABC's")

**Word count:** 340

**Notes:** Written when I assumed two stories, instead of one, had to be written :P.

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At first, the Balrog was sure it was the scuttle of the Moria rats (Orcs or Goblins, whichever they wished to be called) that woke him from his slumber. They made noise occasionally whenever they hunted or relocated within the massive mines, he knew this and it did not bother his sleep in the least. However, this time was different. Their movement was excited, unorganized and rushed; he raised his head a little from his arms and shifted his large wings to get a better view of the world he rarely paid attention to.

Yes, they were excited, but by what? He wondered. No sooner did he complete the thought, his nose picked up on a scent that rang with familiarity. Something else besides the Goblins walked the halls of Dwarrowdelf, his domain, and it stirred a sort anger he had not felt in ages. What could it be?

Unfurling from his sleeping position, the Balrog stretched the sleep from his limbs, his tail lashed out against the stone pillars that surrounded him. He opened his jaw and yawned, but what sounded like a huff to him may have sounded like a terrible growl to others, one that shook the very foundations of Moria. His flame burned bright in the darkness as he stood to his full height, his wings were very last thing he exercised before he marched forth.

Far in the distance, he could hear the Goblins' cries of terror and their retreat back into their holes. The further they ventured back into the shadows, the stronger the mysterious scent became. He growled in anger as he realized what it was he smelling; Dwarf, Man, Elf and Istari. Enemies of the elder days, though they were no one he encountered prior to his seclusion to Moria. The fear of the Istari filled his senses and excited him, prompting him to move faster. Their doom was near at hand, the Balrog gleefully adopted the mantle of the reaper for the second time of the third age.


	2. Brick Ballades

**Two: Brick Ballades**

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**Title:** Brick Ballades

**Author:** Sakura123 (weber_dubois22)

**Prompt(s):** #W: Balrog / #0-9: Gondor (Challenge #9 "Middle-Earth ABC's")

**Word count:** 379

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"Ever has Gondor stood in the shadow of Mordor," The words had been repeated to her often enough whenever she was caught staring too long out a window toward the glowering shadow in the east. At times, Finduilas heeded the warnings of her husband, Denethor, when she was told not to dwell so much upon what laid to the east (such things that did not concern her directly, after all) and instead focus her energy on caring for their child.

Other times, she could not help but look toward the ominous thing far off in the distance, flame burning as bright as a Balrog's, especially whenever she visited the citadel. The very sight of it made her shudder.

The cold stone of Minas Tirith, she suspected, did not help keep warmth in, but aided the shadow in stealing it away. Finduilas would fight her childish curiosities and oblige Denethor's request as best she could; Boromir was far more than enough to keep her busy, what with his constant need for her presence to be at his side and insatiable hunger, almost to the point where she begged one of the maids to look after him just to get some peace. Her peace would not last for long though.

No trick she employed to keep him distracted - whether it was laying him on the bed nestled next to a dress that smelled like her or giving him a book to toy to tinker with - worked. She would not be away from her son for a whole hour before the maid came looking for her, at a loss as to how to calm the wailing child, in tears herself. With a defeated sigh and a strained look of amusement, Finduilas would bid the party she entertained farewell and make her way back to the nursery.

The only time Finduilas had seen her son, barely a year old at the time, in no hurry to return to her was when she found Thorongil in the nursery, attempting to get the boy to smile by holding his doll above his head. It was an admiral attempt on his part, but the entire time, Boromir tried and failed to grab the hilt of his dagger, not a bit interested in his toy.


	3. Reflection

**Three: Reflection**

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**Title:** Reflection

**Word count:** 457

**Warnings:** None

**Prompt:** "Eowyn & Faramir in the gardens" (Challenge #14: "Picture this!")

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The gardens, which lay just outside the confines of the Houses of the Healing, were an odd contrast to the half-ruined city of Minas Tirith, Eowyn decided; there was peace here, even when the city itself was the very opposite (the wails of the mourning and commands to and from soldiers who remained behind echoed everywhere below, tearing at her heart) and beauty in the array of flowers and shrubbery, offset nicely by a fountain across from the stairs.

Regardless, they provided the kind of solitude she was searching for, someplace away from the watchful eyes of the healers and the strange young man who visited her bedroom window every morning. Pulling her cloak closer around her, she glided past the fountain without so much as a sparing the environment glance, too distracted by the world beyond the city to study the craftsmanship that went into building the fortress that surrounded her. Stepping into the middle doorway created by the columns, Eowyn cast her gaze toward the mountains and watched the flicker of red and black which behind them with despair.

Eomer, who'd been a constant presence her side, had left to join the others in the final assault against Mordor, leaving her to contemplate all which had passed. There was always the chance she'd never see him or the lord Aragorn again, yet she would continue to pray they return safely to her side.

Her mind was still undecided on how she felt toward Aragorn. While she wished no ill fate against him, her heart wanted to be angry with him for rejecting her love so, yet the mind argued that such a feeling was a wasteful one. It did not feel right to her, to be so self-pitying because of rejection, but when has she ever been so taken with a man not of her family?

Eowyn prayed for the day when her heart would mend and all was right in the world again.

"Milady?" Eowyn turned, she found the watchful young man standing at the entrance of the garden. His arm was still in cradled in a sling, yet he wore attire that indicated he was a lord of the city, making her wonder if he was the Steward she heard Éomer mention once.

"Sire?" She replied, just in case her suspicions were correct. Faramir stepped further into the garden and closed the distance between them. "Is there anything I can assist you with?" He inquired.

"Your name perhaps?" She said after a moment.

"Faramir," He replied. "Faramir, son of Denethor, the late Steward of Gondor."


	4. A Bundle of Terror

**Four: A Bundle of Terror**

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**Title: A Bundle of Terror**

**Summary:** Boromir & and Faramir cower in the face of their greatest enemy. A baby.

**Author:** Sakura123 (weber_dubois22)

**Rating: K**

**Word Count:** 888

**Chapters:** 1/1

**Character(s)/Pairings:** Boromir, Faramir, OFC

**Spoilers/Warnings:** None.

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The morning began without incident for the first time in half a week. The birds sang their sweet songs as they hoped from place to place on thin branches, the rays of first sunlight shined down through the tree tops, chasing away the fog of the early hours. Two figures lay sprawled on the ground, oblivious to the world around them, snores falling in and out of unison. The younger of the two, arguably the lightest sleeper, was the first to wake. He regarded the wilderness with bleary eyes, confused for a moment as to how he got there, and then he spotted the head of blonde hair across from him and remembered. Brushing the foliage from his arm, he crawled out from under his blanket and proceeded to stumble around the campsite, cursing softly. The elder of the two men remained sleep, the smile on his face indicated he was having a very good dream. His younger brother seemed not to notice, however, far too busy with trying to steady himself as continued to stumble. His foot bumped the sleeping man hard on the shoulder, startling him awake.

The older brother was upright in an instant, right hand pressed against the tiny body that slept on him while his left grabbed the sword and aimed for the intruder who dared to disturb the first good sleep he had in six days. The younger man stopped dead in his tracks, pulling his foot away from his shoulder. An apologetic expression crossed his weary face. It did nothing to prevent the sudden squawk that escaped the little body against the older brother's chest. Panicked, the older man dropped his sword, stood up halfway and pulled the bundle away from his chest. She squirmed in his grip as he set her on the ground, careful to keep her on his bedroll. This was probably unwise, but he didn't intend on keeping on the ground for long, not if he could help it.

Green and blue eyes observed the tiny creature with fear as it kicked its legs wildly in a way to vent frustration, its red face a warning of what was to come next. Faramir and Boromir hovered over the babe, weary from a lack of sleep and nearly a week of walking without stopping, scared out of their wits. She was clean, she'd been fed and she wasn't thirsty - their empty wineskin's were a testament to that fact - so why was she about throw another fit?

Oh, yes, that's right, his brother woke her up!

"Do something," Faramir whispered, nudging his brother with an elbow, breaking the long and uneasy silence. Boromir tore his gaze away from the infant long enough to shoot his brother a withering look. "Me? What do you expect me to do?" He asked.

Faramir shrugged. "Sing her to sleep, it worked last time," He said. Boromir glared at his brother.

"No it didn't, she hates my singing," Boromir corrected. "This is your fault, you fix it."

"What? My fault?" Faramir blurted, standing upright. Boromir stood as well, ignoring the increasing whines of the child wrapped in his cloak. He was only slighter taller than his younger brother who'd come to the end of a growth spurt upon his 20th birthday. "Were it not for you, she'd still be asleep!" Boromir snapped. Faramir had half a mind to apologize to his brother, if only for disturbing the baby, but he was too tired to be courteous to him at the present and decided against it.

The child, whom they'd found wrapped in a wool blanket in a thicket, left to die in the wild, had been nothing but a source of suffering for both of them and a brutal teacher in the lessons of infant hygiene and pleasing. At first, Faramir took a shine to the babe right away, eager to play big brother, unless it concerned changing her cloth, she wanted nothing to do with him. She'd scream loud enough to scare the Harad into retreat whenever he held her and only fell silent in Boromir's arms, absolutely content with playing with his hair.

It annoyed him, yet it was the only way to pacify her until she soiled herself and wanted to eat or drink; she hated riding with Boromir on horseback or being situated in his backpack as way to carry her when he grew weary of cradling her. He was forced to walk alongside his horse as he and Faramir traveled back to Henneth Annûn, which proved an unpleasant excursion with a baby in tow.

Faramir began to wonder if the mother left the baby behind on purpose.

"She doesn't like me," Faramir said, bending over to pick the child up. Right on cue, the baby began to wail and Boromir sighed warily, looking close to tears. "Eru, give her here," He grumbled. Faramir did so without hesitation, glad to be rid of her. Boromir supported the babe from her bottom and placed a hand on her back, she cried a little longer before stopping altogether, hiccups the only noise escaping her.

Faramir smiled with relief while his brother just looked exasperated. "Like magic," Faramir chuckled.

"For your sake, pray the magic lasts," Boromir grouched.


	5. A Nameless Terror

**Five: A Nameless Terror**

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**Title:** **A Nameless Terror**

**Summary:** Boromir and Faramir ponder over the placement and naming of the enemy.

**Author:** Sakura123 (weber_dubois22)

**Rating: K**

**Word Count:** 888

**Chapters: 1/1**

**Character(s)/Pairings:** Boromir, Faramir, Madril OFC, OMC

**Spoilers/Warnings:** None

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On the seventh day of near-sleepless travel, the brothers reached Henneth Annûn, shaken with exhaustion and relief that wanted to manifest itself through tears of joy. The only one among their company who was even the slightest bit rested was the baby, who squirmed for a better position against Boromir's chest every now and again when his arm would slip down. He'd become so used to the movement in the short time he'd been charged with her, that he simply raised his arm up a bit and the squirming stopped.

Upon reaching the lower entrance, they were greeted by Madril, Faramir's second-in-command (and advisor) . If given the chance to fret, he would've, but a look from Faramir reduced his concern into a short nod and a worrisome look. They'd been expected back much earlier than when they arrived and it'd taken all of the senior ranger's self-control to keep from sending a search party out to fetch them. Faramir and Boromir were grown men, they'd look after themselves and each other if they ran into trouble, or at least, that was his reasoning.

He was glad to see that it was true. The sons of Denethor returned to the refuge unharmed, exhaustion being the only obvious trouble, yet, he did not expect them to return with a baby in tow. "We feared you'd run into Orcs," Madril said in a low voice, regarding the little hand that clung to the collar of Boromir's tunic. Faramir pulled the hood from his head with a sigh and shook his head; his ears adjusted to the melody of noises and soft conversation that echoed off the cavern walls. "Nay, Madril. There were no Orc's to be seen," He half-yawned. "Just a child." Faramir nudged his brother, who'd started to lean against the cool wall for a rest, then continued on deeper into the cave. Boromir gave a weary sigh and followed after his brother, Madril trailing behind him silence.

"Where on Arda did you find this little thing?" Madril inquired, peering past Boromir's arm at the child whose brown eyes were surveying her new environment. Boromir half-shrugged, he had no desire to speak, yet went about explaining where they'd "happened across" the babe, leaving out the more wearying parts he rather not think about. Madril sensed there was more to the tale than was told, but did not press the younger man for any more information. When the two entered the open space, the gaggle of rangers who'd surrounded Faramir paused at the sight of the Captain-General and bundle in his arms. "Is that it, captain?" One of them said, moving in to study the specimen.

The baby squirmed in Boromir's grip, appearing to frown when the youth leaned in closer to peer down at her. Boromir gave the young man a steely look, one which caused the ranger to take a step back. Faramir watched his grouchy brother with mild-amusement, knowing his mood would improve when he was given a chance to sleep.

They were all of them fascinated by the tiny creature in his brother's arms. Most behaved as though they'd never been so close to an innocent before while a few others simply thought back on and mentioned children of their own, waiting in Minas Tirith or elsewhere within occupied realms of Gondor.

"She's a lovely one, so she is," Said a ranger named Fayed. Faramir and Boromir, who'd situated themselves at one of the tables, shared an identical look of reservation when those words were spoken. Lovely in looks perhaps, but the baby was anything but "lovely" to them. "She's a ruddy terror, is what she is," Boromir grumbled, leveling his eyes on the head of golden hair, admittedly softer than anything he could remember touching. Fayed grinned knowingly at the Captain-General when he said, "Kept you up did she, sirs?"

"Yes, unfortunately, she did," Faramir answered, rubbing his temples warily. He shuddered at the memory of what transpired over just a few days and wondered, for a moment, how any woman daydreamed of bearing such torturous creatures.

"My missus' first did the same," Fayed recounted with nostalgia. "Nothing seemed to satisfy him, until we learned he just wanted something to gnaw at. Barely old enough to start gettin' any teeth, yet he teethed like a hungry Warg, so he did." He paused with a frown, then winced. "'twas murder on my lady's tits, though."

Respectively, neither Boromir nor Faramir decided to dignify that comment with an answer of sympathy or disgust. The baby bounced happily on Boromir's leg, glad to be able stretch her legs and arms. Fayed observed the baby girl with a gentle smile then said, "Does she have name, sir?"

Boromir looked taken aback by the question. "I wouldn't know, Fayed," He answered. "She was left to die in the wild, no sign of her family."

"Oh, it doesn't do well to have a nameless baby. Bad luck."

"Duly noted, Fayed," Faramir yawned, not at all in a mocking manner.

"What do you plan do with her?" He pressed. When a look was all he received, he said, "Your pardon, lords, but I don't think your father would want you returning home with a babe in your arms. It would give the folk the wrong impression, so it would." They took no offense in his words, knowing them to be true. Denethor would skin them both for being so careless and casting a poor image upon the house of the Stewards.

Boromir pondered on the matter for a moment. "I had a governess once. She and her family presently reside in Lossarnach," Boromir started. "The child will be well looked after there, I think."

"A grand idea, sir, so it is," Fayed agreed.

"When do you plan to depart?" It was Madril who spoke this time, causing all three men to sit up a little straighter. "The child cannot stay here, it is not safe."

"Later this afternoon, once we've had some sleep," Boromir answered warily, dreading the idea of moving from his spot any time soon.

Madril raised an eyebrow. "Faramir plans to go with you?"

"Aye," Faramir answered. "I cannot command the men until this task is done." He wanted to see the child off to her new family with his brother, feeling it was his duty to complete this self-appointed mission. Madril seemed to none too happy about the decision, but nodded all the same. Moving out of the room, he rallied those who were unoccupied with duties to him and ordered them to scout the perimeter. Things would go on as they had prior to the arrival of Denethor's sons and the nameless baby, there'd be so slacking because they'd returned. The room emptied slowly of the rangers, until there was no one left save Boromir, Faramir and the baby.

Boromir started to relax a little when a head poked back inside, hesitant and unsure was the expression on his face. Faramir recognized the young man immediately and asked, "What is it, Banris?"

"I don't mean to trouble, sirs, but It's just… well-"

"Spit it out, lad," Boromir muttered.

"-Do you think I could hold her, sir?" Banris inquired cautiously.

Faramir was never given the chance to response, however. "Banris, get you gone lad!" Madril's booming voice echoed from the hall Banris stood in, startling the young man into action and away from the sleepy commanders.

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"What made you think of your governess?" Faramir asked, turning on his side. Boromir shrugged tiredly, suppressing a yawn as he did so. Sleep, all he wanted to do was sleep, yet his body would not do as he bid and fall into restful state. "Father," He replied, staring up at the baby that sat on his chest.

"Father?" Faramir repeated, incredulous.

"Aye, our father," Boromir sighed, readjusting himself on the bedroll. "Truth be told, Fayed might've something to do with it too." He laughed. "I wanted to keep the troublesome little thing nearby. Leastways I'd know she couldn't be dumped like baggage. But I wasn't thinking about certain things, consequences. Father would indeed be livid if saw this little bit in my arms... or yours."

_Especially mine, _thought the younger brother. Faramir said nothing for a while; he instead studied the forlorn expression on his brother's face then shifted his gaze over to the babe who played with the loose strings of his sleeve. "I thought you wanted be rid of the little monster?" Faramir said.

"I do," Boromir assured his brother, a grimace passed over his face when little fingers mistook his hair for thread and tugged it_._ He moved her further back so that she sat on his stomach, she whined in protest, digging a foot into his side. He readjusted her again, right back in the spot she'd been in originally. "But… I don't want the monster mistreated either."

Faramir nudged his brother. "You're terribly softhearted towards something that caused us so much misery," He chuckled.

"Ah, you were the same once," Boromir yawned. "Kept mother up all hours of the night."

"I have no recollection of this," Faramir feigned offence. "Are you sure you're not confusing me with you?"

"Quite sure, Faramir. I was saintly as a bab- ow!" Boromir shut his eyes against the spike of pain that ran across his scalp. The little imp had gone back to pulling at his hair again, wanting his full and undivided attention this time. Boromir glared at the little face that seemed to take delight in torturing him, while Faramir just shook his head, knowing his brother was probably reconsidering any kind thought he'd formulated in favor of the child.

"Bloody hell, lass," He winced. "lay off!" The babe gurgled something which could've been interpreted as a response, she loosened her grip on his hair and settled back on his chest.

"You were saying?" Faramir grinned.

"Shut up," Boromir grumbled. "I'm tryin' to sleep."

"Yes, good luck with that," Faramir turned over to lie on his back and all fell silent.

"What are we to call her?" Boromir's voice drifted up out of the silence, startling Faramir out his half-sleep. "What?" He mumbled.

"The baby. What should we call her?"

Faramir continued to stare up at the ceiling as he shrugged. "Shouldn't we leave that to your former governess?"

"Nay, little brother. We found her, might as well give her name as well," Boromir reasoned.

"If you say so," Faramir replied. "Have you a name in mind?"

"Idrial, perhaps?" Boromir said, focusing his attention on the baby. She said nothing (not that she could've anyway) and remained totally still. With a frown, Boromir realized she did not like the name and neither did Faramir.

"Evonyn?" Faramir tried, raising his eyebrows. Again she did not move.

"Lianna? Lucille?" Boromir suggested. "Lucille's a nice name for a lass- Ow!" The baby's fingers were on his hair again. "Curses."

"She doesn't like either name, brother."

"Yes, I'm can see that, Faramir," Came the reply through gritted teeth. He calmed then said, "What about Idis, lass?"

"That sounds awful-" Yet, despite his objection, there was no objection from the infant. Her little legs kicked up and down and she smiled, Boromir kept his hands at her side so as to keep her from falling over sideways.

"Idis? You like that name?" He smiled. The baby let out a low coo, leaning forward so that her fingers pawed at the edges of his collar. "Idis?" He repeated, grinning like a fool. She squawked and laid on her stomach, Boromir laughed softly at her antics.

"She likes the name," Faramir stated in mild disbelief. He looked to his brother with weary and hopeful eyes. "Can we go to sleep now?" Boromir gave his brother a short nod of the head, the younger brother exhaled and rolled onto his side so that his back was facing Boromir. Idis was well on her way into the land of dreams, resting comfortably on the elder brother's chest. Boromir did the best he could to find a comfortable spot on the hard floor; he laid one hand on Idis' back and closed his eyes.


End file.
